


first steps

by nellywrites



Series: family of choice [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Families of Choice, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellywrites/pseuds/nellywrites
Summary: AU where John rescues Nora from the asylum in season 3 and adopts her. In this one: John and Nora have their first bonding moment.
Relationships: John Constantine & Nora Darhk
Series: family of choice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912054
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	first steps

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my old drafts and I found this. While it's not as polished as what I usually post, I still quite liked it. Thought I would let it see the light of day. Enjoy

The apartment smells like arcane black magic, like sulfur and mercury and hellfire. Still, it feels warm and not just because John keeps it hot as a furnace. It’s the lights, and tapestries and rugs, all of them rich in reds and yellows. It’s all the opposite of the cold blue void of Malllus’ realm where her spirit languishes when he takes over her body. It’s old, too, Nora can tell, from the strange noises coming from the walls, or floorboards that creak under her weight. 

Still, all of this is not why Nora can’t sleep. She can’t fight when she’s asleep.

She sits up on the bed and stretches her legs out the side of her bed, her feet hovering a few inches over the floor, hesitating. She slips her feet down, slowly, until the tips of her toes make contact with the hardwood. She steps over the salt line around her bed and waits, heart hammering in her throat, even though she knows this isn’t how it works.The salt circle’s not protecting her from Mallus, it’s protecting John. From her.

The door makes a whiny creak when she opens it, and Nora curses under her breath at the noise. She pads silently down the hallway and spares a glance at the closed door to John’s bedroom, remembering being four or five years old, sneaking out of her bed after a nightmare to climb into another one.  _ Shut up _ , Nora.  _ This isn’t like that. He’s not your father. _

Water, then. She’ll just get some water.

She finds him in the kitchen, clad in only boxer shorts, cigarette between his lips, eyes buried in an ancient text. Nora curls her arms around her body, ears burning at his state of undress. He’s old enough to be her father, yes, but he’s still a man who is technically a stranger. He has a tattoo on his left shoulder blade, an unassuming triangle, or, as one with the proper knowledge would know, the alchemical symbol for fire. 

He seems to thrive under it. That’s good. Fire scares  _ him _ —Mallus.

Nora shuffles her feet, scraping the bottom of her slippers on the floor and he jumps in his seat, book closing around his fingers. 

“Oh, hiya pet. What are you doing about?” John says, looking over his shoulder.

She shrugs and stares at her feet, avoiding his face. She stays in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure how to go on. She hadn’t calculated for his wakefulness when she decided to brave the world outside her new bedroom. He seems to catch on to her discomfort because he gets up from his chair and disappears into the hallway. When he comes back a moment later, he’s wearing a black and red robe.

“Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” he says and she still doesn't meet his eyes. “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head. 

“Me neither,” he says and she finally raises her head. He’s got a soft, patient look on his face. “You wanna join me?”

Nora gives a shy nod and sits at the table across from him. The legs are uneven and the table wobbles when she puts her hands down it for support. The cigarette, burning away forgotten in the ashtray rolls along. She wrinkles her nose at the smell and he hastily puts it out. Her cheeks warm and she wraps her arms around herself again. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he says. His voice is stilted, words hesitant and foreign on his mouth.

Nora realizes she makes him nervous. He’s afraid. Of her maybe. She wonders if he even knows what he’s doing. Does  _ she _ ? What was she thinking escaping the institute with a man who’s nothing more than a perfect stranger. But he’s also the first kind soul she’s encountered since her parent’s death.

Why does this all have to be so complicated?

She rubs at her wrists, scratching at the place where her medical bracelets chafed the skin. His eyes flicker down and she tucks her hands in her lap, under the table, away from his prying gaze.

“You know,” he says in a voice too casual to be fully natural, “I don’t really sleep well most nights. Keep waking up every 20 minutes. For checks. Never really quite settled after I left the loony bin.”

Nora looks up, surprised by the easy admission. There’s no trace of lie on his face and a shy smile pulls at her lips. One day she’ll ask him.

“Checks are the worst,” she says.

“Yeah, they really are.”

His answering smile settles her spirit for a moment before the doubts creep up again, and she knows she has to ask this now, before it’s too late. Before she allows herself the luxury of attachment.

“What’s gonna happen to me? If we get the demon out?”

“When,” he interrupts. “We’re gonna get him out, Nora. You hear me? I’m gonna send that bastard back to wherever he came from. I promise you that.”

And she believes him. But…

“I mean, what’s going to happen  _ after _ .” 

John frowns at her and she realizes she’s gonna have to spell it out for him. 

“Where will I go?” she whispers.

For a moment there’s surprise in his face. And fear. Like he’s finally realized what he’s taken on. He hadn’t thought that far ahead either, and a cold dread fills her. She sees her future: foster care, and group homes because she’s a difficult child with a record, the daughter of a man everyone hates, maybe another institute or— 

“You’ll stay here with me,” John says, and she wants to believe him but a part of her still can’t bring herself to trust him. “If that’s what you want.” He reaches over the divide in the table and takes hold of her hand. “I’m not the best you can have, and I’m sorry for that, love. But I promise I’ll try me best. All right?”

She nods.

“All right, okay then. How about a warm drink to settle our spirits?”

He gets up, rummages through his fridge and Nora remembers what it’d looked like just days ago when she first got here. There’d been nothing but a tub of butter and 3 bottles of beer. He’d taken her to the deli and she’d felt like a girl in a movie, having New York bagels in a New York deli.

Her face heats up when she remembers what happened next. She’d had an episode on the way home and he’d had to call his friend, the one with the taxi. 

John heats milk on the stove until small bubbles rim the pot and then he adds brown sugar and vanilla. He pours the steaming milk into a mug and presents it to her with a flourish. 

Nora thinks of her father, she can’t help it. He’d always buy her hot chocolate on those days she was feeling sad. Now, she looks at John, at his open look of anticipation. He always looks at her like he’s asking to be forgiven. And so she doesn’t mention her father. She blows on the milk and takes a sip. Sweetness floods her mouth and warms her chest.

“It’s good,” she says and he smiles, the tip of his tongue peeking through the tiny gap between his teeth.

“My sister used to make that for me, when we were kids. Bollocks, I suppose I’ll have to call her now, tell her I went and got meself a kid.” 

He tries to wink but can’t quite manage it, both eyes squinting.

Nora hides her smile in her cup. The warmth she feels now has nothing to do with the drink or the blazing heat of the apartment. For the first time since her parents died she feels like maybe they’ll figure this out. Maybe she’s going to be alright in the end.


End file.
